Mirror of Sparrows

Writing by grace and prayer

I’ve been writing Mirror of Sparrows since the beginning of March 2015, so about two-and-a-half years now. And I still have a super long ways to go. Many times, I can push myself to write out of passion or will power, but recently, writing has felt like a ton of lead in my brain. I felt like I needed more depth, ability, efficiency, creativity, logic: I’ve run out. I’ve given it everything I have. I feel not energetic enough. Not creative enough. Not insightful enough. Not intelligent enough. Not able, enough.

I only can give what I can give. I only am who I am.

I’ve diligently sought after inspiration, breakthrough, knowledge, feedback. But now, I feel like I’ve kind of heard it all, and I just wish I knew how to apply it better – that it would all come together in brilliance. Instead, I’ve been on a nightmarish never-ending Merry-go-round. It’s fun for a while. Then, not so much.

So now, at then end of myself, I look for grace.

Grace to finish what I have started. Grace to do at least a decent job. Grace that my story might be fun to read and bring joy.

God answers prayer. I know that. And I know that God is for me. That this is what I want to do more than anything else (besides loving the people in my life). And that the obstacles in my way, the lies whispered by fear and discouragement, are no match for the truth that God is with me.

Now, if I can just turn the computer on, and not go to Email, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube or my favorite blogs, then maybe I can do this. By prayer and by grace.

7-10 Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn’t get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.